


Did You Just What?

by Gabi_type_creature



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hypnotism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Let Techno Sleep, Light Angst, Mind Manipulation, Minor Violence, Morally Ambiguous Character, Muffins, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queerplatonic Relationships, Reincarnation, Social Anxiety, Temporary Character Death, sibling dynamics, unreality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27408649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabi_type_creature/pseuds/Gabi_type_creature
Summary: The world did not end as it was supposed to on the Final Day. The few Old Gods that remained chose to hide their existence from the mortals, and let them forget.Thousands of years later, New Gods begin appearing. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream & Dave | Technoblade, Clay | Dream & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Darryl Noveschosch, Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Eret & Floris | Fundy, Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & Drista, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Tubbo & TommyInnit & Drista, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 75
Kudos: 554





	1. Could You Tell Me How?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for MCYT, plz be kind.  
> There will be no romantic ships, sorry not sorry :P  
> Plz comment, it fuels me >:3

Technoblade never dies. Just one of the little perks of being an immortal war deity.

In the very beginning, there were many like him, gods who shaped the world and its rules to their every whim. He was perhaps the most revered of them all once: the Blood God, Harbinger of Victory and Bountiful Harvest. Legends spoke of how his tusks were sharper than any sword, how he could predict the outcomes of a hundred battles as long as he knew his opponent. He spent millennia training and fighting, constantly preparing for the final battle between gods at the end of the world. It was his destiny, his sole purpose in existence, to bring bloodshed upon the Final Day.

That day had come and gone more than three thousand years ago.

Most of the other gods were gone, having been slain or simply vanishing in the heat of battle. The once innumerable beings were reduced to a mere handful in the span of a single day. The masked Hunter, his sister the Trickster, the horned Peacekeeper, the winged Survivor: they were all that was left of what had been a vast pantheon. Technoblade had caused so many of them to be lost, as it has been his duty. Mortals died so easily, forgot the old ways so easily. He saw no need to remind them- the time of gods had passed, should have passed millennia ago. And yet… he continued not to die.

Humanity changed, and so did they. The Survivor's wings changed color time and again, the Hunter's mask growing simpler in design until it was just two dots and a line. Techno himself saw the face in the mirror shift from a wild boar to a more domesticated breed of pig, floppy ears and soft pink hair framing a wide snout and beady, tired eyes. He thought it was funny, especially paired with his old crown and cloak. Not much made him laugh anymore.

Technoblade missed his old companions, of course he did. Over the millennia he found himself wishing he be with them, in whatever remained after. Not permanently- humanity amused him too much for him to want to miss out, but it would be good to see the friends who had passed on before.

This is not a story of the millenia before what was supposed to be the Final Day. This is a story that takes place millenia after, how the world began to change much quicker than it had been. For better or worse, the Old Gods were at the center of it and had to try and adapt.

And it starts with two teenagers making friends with the Trickster.

* * *

Time held no real meaning when you were an immortal being, Techno reasoned, so it was perfectly fine for him to sleep at noon. What was not perfectly fine, however, was the sudden shouts and crashing that came from downstairs just 5 minutes later. The pig-headed man shot out of bed, grabbing the sword by his bed and leaping over the railing to the first floor. He landed and lashed the blade out to point at the neck of the intruder. The familiar drums of war, the sound of rushing blood filled his ears as he watched for any flinch, any sign of movement. "Techno, chill!" A young voice cut through the static, an arm tugging on his. "They're with me dude!"

His vision cleared and he recognized the Trickster as the one trying to force his weapon away from the other blonde teen. He finally lowered the shining blade, registering the terrified looks on the unfamiliar boys' faces. As the rushing noise finally faded, the Blood God realized just how crazy he must look: he was dressed in only sweatpants and an undershirt, hair loose, having just jumped down from the second story with a very real, very sharp sword. Oops.

"Hullo~."

The child he'd nearly slaughtered was frozen in shock. "That… was absolutely poggers!" He shouted, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I really thought he was going to kill me for a second, that was bloody brilliant."

"Yeah, he does that." She grins at them but shoots a glare at him from under her mask. "Guys, this is my cousin Technoblade. Techno, meet my friends Tommy and Tubbo."

"Hullo~." He repeats, feeling more than a little out of his depth. "Lotta- lotta T names around here." The teens seem to think it's funny at least, so that's good. Prevents him from vanishing in shame. "Mind keeping the noise down?" He sheathes his sword as he speaks, taking comfort in the weight against his hip. "I was trying to sleep."

"Yeah sure no problem, let's go guys." She starts shoving the other two down the hall.

"Aw come on Drista, I wanna talk to your weird cousin!" The shorter one whines.

"Nope, moving on now." Drista- that's a new name for her- states. "Or I'll beat your butt in Mario Kart even harder than I normally do."

The three of them disappear further into the house, and Techno sighs before trudging back up the stairs. On the way back to his room he passes the Peacekeeper's, who pokes his head through the door. "Everything good down there?" 

"Trickster has guests." He grumbles in reply. 

"Ooo!" He murmurs as the horns poking out from his hair recede, slipping into a more human appearance. "Maybe I should greet them."

"You do that." He's so tired all of a sudden, even more than before. Going into a rage will do that, even if he didn't particularly exert himself. "I'm going back to bed."

"Sleep well muffinhead." The other chirps from behind him. The porcine god yawns as he shuts the door, dropping his sword and flopping back onto the bed. Maybe he can actually sleep now.

* * *

Something is poking his cheek. Techno rolls over. The object keeps poking him. "Techno. Wake up." They say insistently. "We need to talk."

"What time izzit?" He grumbles, burying his snout into the pillow.

"It's three, now come on." He recognizes the voice now- the Hunter is in his room.

"Whyyyyy?" He rolls back over and sees the plain white mask staring him down, the displeasure clear despite the smile painted there.

"Who is with Drista right now?"

"Trickster finally chooses a name and she chooses that?" He droned, tail wagging slightly in amusement. "I mean, I know you have shit taste, but I expected her to be somewhat better than you." 

"Focus."

"Right." He yawns. "She brought a couple of her human friends to play with that loud game machine. Tommy and… was it Tugboat? Trumbo-"

"Those two aren't human."

"Hybrids then, I didn't care enough to look very hard." He snorts. "What, you some kind of species-ist? As a hybrid myself, I find that to be-"

"Did you seriously not notice they were gods?" He snaps, poking him with the end of his bow once again.

Technoblade blinks slowly. Once, twice.

"I haven't gotten enough sleep for this." He states, head thumping face-first into the pillow.

The Hunter huffs and yanks on his arm to try and pull him out of bed- not an easy task. "This is serious! Get up!"

"Only so you won't dislocate my shoulder." He grumbles, before pushing himself up and stretching. "What do I call you when we get downstairs?"

"Dream." Techno chuckles at that. "Shut up, it's a good name."

"I think I liked Clay better."

"Well nobody asked for your opinion, so." He gets up and begins puttering around the room, gathering his usual clothes: blouse, pantaloons, sash, overcoat- his fashion sense is a bit outdated, sue him. "How are you so slow?"

"Perfection takes time." The pig-headed god can see the Hunter's torso shift as he growls. "But I suppose I can shave off a few seconds." He snaps his fingers and he's suddenly dressed. His hair is still loose, but from the way the Hunter is glaring at him he doesn't have time to do his usual braid so he quickly fixes it into a ponytail- ha, ponytail on a pig. He grabs his spectacles and slips them on before following the other god downstairs.

When they do get downstairs and to the space the Trickster claimed as her 'game room', Technoblade finally gets a good look at the boys. There's a definite sort of energy to the area that's amplified by himself and the Hunter entering the room.

Tommy is tall and blonde and loud, alternating between eardrum-shattering shrieks and roaring laughter as Drista and -Timbo? Tango?- the other one race him in the game. He looks human, save the strange fluttering lumps on his back covered by the shirt. His eyes are blue, but when he laughs they flash a green that looks familiar but he can't quite place. Hmm.

The other boy also looks normal at first glance, shorter than the other two with brown hair. But with his spectacles on, Techno can see that what he thought were freckles were actually dots of pollen. There are antennae sticking out of his hair, and the boy's eyes look fragmented. The eyes that are looking at him. Oh shit he's not paying attention to the conversation-

"-something from me Dream?" The Trickster asks. The game is paused now.

"Nope. I just- I mean, Techno wanted to play with you guys." He says. The mask's grin looks a bit more friendly.

"He does?"

"I do?" The pig-headed god asks at the same time before recovering. "I do, actually. Teach me your ways, oh wise children." Tommy busts into laughter again.

"Have you not played Mario Kart before?" Trenchcoat? Taurus?- the short one asks him curiously.

"I have not." He admits, taking a seat on the floor beside the couch and squinting at the television. "I am not well versed in the ways of the videoed game, and wish to become stronger."

"No, I'm not gonna sit here and teach you how to hold a joycon." Drista huffs.

"Aww, come on now Drista," Tommy grins, elbowing her shoulder, "It would be fun to have someone to come in 12th place for us!"

"You mean apart from you?"

The blonde sputters, swatting the other boy's head. "You're supposed to be on my side Tubbo!" Tubbo, that was his name. He had to remember that.

Techno tugs on his sleeve, straightening it out. "So. Can I play. Or?"

Tubbo hands him one of the strange plastic things that the teens are all holding. "I can help you Mr. Blade. It'll be fun!"

Drista sighs and presses a few buttons on her controller. "Fine. Techno can join for one set of races."

* * *

"How!?" Tommy shrieks as Techno once again places first. It's been a few hours now, and he's pretty sure he's got the game all figured out.

"If you wish to defeat me," He states gleefully, "train for another 100 years!"

"You've literally only trained for three hours, wh-" The blonde child looks like he's about to have a fit.

"Second!" The Trickster cheers, sticking her tongue out at them.

"Fifth!" Tubbo buzzes. "Come on Tommy, you got this!"

The strange green lizard creature the boy was controlling finally passes the finish line. "... Ninth." He huffs.

"Not last place, good job scrub." Techno remarks approvingly. 

"You-" A loud jangling noise rings out, and the boy pulls a device out of his pocket. "Shit, mum's calling, give me a second." He stands up and leaves the room for just a moment before poking his head back in. "We gotta go home for supper, sorry."

"Boo, Tommy cringe moments," Drista complains, leaning over the back of the couch as Tubbo stands. "Did you guys wanna come over again tomorrow after school?"

"Oh, for sure. I'll ask mother dearest about it." The brunette says. "Bye Drista! Bye Technoblade."

"Bye." He waits until he hears the front door open and close again before turning to the Trickster. “So. Your friends seem neat.”

She shrugs, turning off the game device. “Yeah, they’re alright. Why did Dream put you up to this?”

He sputters. “Excuse me, child?”

“Don’t play dumb. Why did he want you here supervising?” She sits down on the floor across from him and removes the mask, fidgeting with the elastic band that keeps it in place. For all intents and purposes she looks human- a far cry from her brother- but the mischief and intelligence behind purely green eyes betray her true nature. “Is he freaking out about me talking to outsiders again?”

“Eeh, not quite.” He frowns, snout twitching. “I mean… you are aware they’re not mortal, right?”

“Isn’t it cool! Finally, someone my age.”

"But there aren't any gods your age, aren't supposed to be anyway." She sighs, staring down at the smiling design on her mask, then asks the hardest question for him to answer.

"But why?"

"Uhhhh…" Shit, come up with a diversion. "You should teach me how to win at your other games."

"Don't change the subject!"

"Wouldn't that be a fun prank to pull on your friends, if I could beat them at everything?" He asks desperately. The word 'prank' seems to do the trick, thank goodness, and her eyes light up.

"Oh man, Tommy would flip." The Trickster slips her mask back on and goes to set up the game machine. Techno breathes a sigh of relief and makes a mental note to talk to the Survivor later.

Philza would know what to do.


	2. Do You See What I See?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno has a chat with the Hunter.  
> Techno has undiagnosed PTSD.  
> Techno has a chat with the Peacekeeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of notes before we get into the chapter:  
> Techno refers to the others mostly by their godly titles.  
> There are a couple minor descriptions of violence, they occur in the italicized portions. Feel free to skip over them if you aren't comfortable with that stuff.  
> Finally, any Skephalo is meant to be read as queerplatonic, not romantic.  
> Thank you for your time, enjoy the chapter.

The Trickster’s friends keep coming over, and over the next couple weeks Techno notices a lot about them. He’s observant, despite the terrible eyesight, and as time passes, their similarities to the pantheon of Before grow. It’s not a bad thing, necessarily, but the similarities grow as the days pass. He decides to talk to the Hunter about it.

If only he could find the slippery bastard. 

Dream- stupid name, Technoblade is about a thousand times better- does this sometimes. Without warning he’ll run off and disappear somewhere in the house or the woods behind it. Nobody will see him for days until either he’s found or he gets bored in his hiding spot (the last time they tried to wait for him to get bored, he was gone for four months). He says it’s so he doesn’t lose his edge, but Techno knows the truth: it’s because his cousin is a NERRRRD.

He doesn’t seem to have gone far this time, which is a relief. However, he does appear to be on the roof, which leads to a lot of undignified grunting and flailing from the pig-headed god as he attempts to climb up there. When he does manage it without falling he takes a second to lay on the cool stone and catch his breath before sitting up. Techno notes that the sun is setting and sighs, because that means all that effort was for nothing- his nightvision is practically nonexistent. He has to go back inside and either grab a lamp or wait until morning to find Dream. He’s about to do so when he hears a voice just inches away from his ear.

“So you see it too.” Technoblade definitely doesn’t squeal, but he does manage to clip the other’s bicep with his sword. The Hunter doesn’t seem too bothered by the slash in his arm, just annoyed. “That was my favorite hoodie.”

“Don’t attack me out of nowhere and I’ll consider not doing that again.” The other laughs, sitting down with his back against the chimney and patting the space next to him.

“Tell me what you’ve learned so far.”

And he obliges.

* * *

Tubbo isn’t able to manipulate his chances of victory like Techno can, but the boy works hard at things and sticks to them. All manner of pollinating insects are attracted to him when he’s outside, and he tends to them and treats them like pets. Tubbo is kind, and cheerful, and simple in the best way: good kid. When he looks at him, he remembers a garden full of beehives, quiet hours collecting flowers and honey with the Diligent when he wasn’t training. He doesn't look exactly like the face in those memories- not that he could remember it well anymore- but he gives off the same feeling.

_Techno remembers cornering the Diligent on the Final Day. The smile is gone, the worn hands raised in a futile attempt to shield themselves. The insects crunch under his trotters, the air heavy with smoke and ash. Their antennae twitch even after their head is separated from their body._

Tommy is still loud every time he visits, but he is proud of it. He is proud to be bold and excited, fierce about what he believes in. He embodies his emotions fully, and refuses to back down when he sees something is unfair- unless it’s unfair in his favor, at which point he’ll fight to keep it that way. He practically seems to float off the ground when he's happy- those strange fluttering lumps under his shirt must be wings, though he never shows them. In him, Techno sees the Poisoned Youth, the memories bright and loud as if the old one were still in the room.

_Techno remembers the Youth trying to challenge him so the Siren and the Hearth can escape. He remembers mocking the boy, telling him how easily the Diligent went down. His scream rang out like an eagle's cry as he redoubled his efforts._

_Not that it had done any good against the Blood God._

* * *

"You done brooding yet?" The Hunter jokes, and Techno blinks out of it. The sun had set by now, and the only reason he can see the other is because of the lantern sitting on the roof between them.

"Let an old war vet reminisce, will you." He replies sarcastically. They both know it hadn't been a war, not really. They both had roles they were assigned on that Final Day that somehow wasn't the end. "Anyway, what do you think about it?" The other hums thoughtfully.

"I think… if we've found these two," He says, tapping the grip of his bow. "That there are probably more out there. And if they haven't realized they're gods either-"

"-It's only a matter of time before they do."

"Could you let me finish a sentence?" 

Techno snorts, a small smirk working its way onto his face. "Maybe if you didn't take forever to get to the point I would." The conversation lapses back into silence. "... do you know when Phil's coming back?"

“He hasn’t responded to my messages.”

“Ah.” He huffs. The Survivor also tends to disappear, though he actually tells them when he leaves, and he tends to be gone for years at a time. Absent father figure of the millennium. “Think you could track him down? He needs to know about this.”

“I’ll start tomorrow.” He stands up, stretching. "It'll be easier when it's light out." The porcine god looks up at his friend, his brother-in-arms, his cousin as he easily grabs the ledge and swings down through the open window. "Don't stay out for too long, alright?" The Hunter calls up. "There's supposed to be phantoms out tonight."

"Will do." He hears the window slide shut and stays sitting there for a moment more, gazing up at the night sky with only the lantern to help him see.

Then he realizes that the previously open window had been his route back inside. "Oh son of a-"

* * *

One absolutely not catastrophic shimmy down the drainpipe that totally doesn't end with him falling into a hedge later, Technoblade finally shuts the front door. "Hello?" The Peacekeeper's voice comes from the kitchen, and he peeks around the corner. He looks strangely human, and cheerful, and covered in flour. "Oh hey Technoblade. I thought you were upstairs?"

"I was." He picks a couple leaves out of his braid, and the other doesn't question it.

"Okay. My friend is here, wanna say hi?" He grins brightly and is about to say more when a voice calls to him from the other room.

"Hey Bad, I'm gonna start mixing in the eggs, is that cool?"

"Oh my goodness don't you dare you muffin-" he disappears back into the kitchen and Techno follows.

The room is a disaster- there's flour dusting every counter and eggshells littering the island in the center. The sink has two mixing bowls in it already, and another three are filled with various ingredients. In the middle of it all is the Peacekeeper trying to wrestle yet another bowl away from a shining figure.

It's impossible.

The figure laughs as the bowl finally slips from his fingers, getting egg all over the other. He notices Technoblade standing frozen in the doorway and sticks out a messy, diamond blue hand. “Nice to meet you dude.”

He’s imagining things, he has to be.

Bad- and what kind of a name is that? Is it short for something?- smiles with the light and warmth of a thousand suns, but he just feels cold. The Peacekeeper puts an arm around the waist of someone who looks identical to someone he knew thousands of years ago. “Techno, I want you to meet Skeppy.”

“He’s my Companion.”

_Techno remembered the Companion, bright and shining and mischievous. He and the Peacekeeper had been inseparable, closer than friends- until what was supposed to be the Final Day. Until he separated them. He had brought his sword down and hacked clean through the other's diamond-tough exterior, exposing and cleaving the soft flesh underneath. He remembers moving on to the next opponent, remembers leaving the Peacekeeper kneeling beside the body. That was what ended up being his downfall, turning away when one of them was still alive._

_Looking back, he doesn’t regret the mistake._

“Techno?” A soft voice brings him back out of his memories, and he finds that he’s shaking, one hand clenching the hilt of his sword impossibly tight. The lantern has fallen to the floor- not shattered, thank goodness. The Peacekeeper and the Companion are staring, one concerned and the other confused. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.” He manages to say. “Nice to meet you… Skeptic, was it?”

“It’s Skeppy-”

“Yeah, great. I’m gonna head upstairs, it’s been a long day. Have fun with your cooking- baking- whatever thing.” He backs away, still clutching his sword until he reaches the stairs. Then he bolts.

* * *

In the safety of his room Techno catches his breath, reeling after what he just saw. Thousands of years since he had to think about that day, and in the span of two weeks he’s already had to be around three living, breathing reminders of what he did. “It wasn’t your fault.” He says to nobody. “You did what you had to.”

The Blood God repeats the phrases to himself like a mantra, a chant to rally soldiers, a battle cry. He doesn’t believe it, but he says it anyway.

Eventually the panic and guilt start to ebb away, and he breathes a heavy sigh. It was thousands of years ago. It was supposed to have been the end. He never expected to have to live with the consequences.

Someone knocks on his door. “Techno?” It’s the Peacekeeper. “Can I come in?”

“Eeh.” It’s not an actual response, but after millennia he’s able to interpret it. The other steps into the room with a plate in his hands. He’s back to his usual form, all shifting shadows and dark, curved horns, and he sits next to him on the bed.

“I’m sorry.” The apology startles him, and his snout scrunches curiously. “I was just so happy to have found him again, I- I didn’t think that- I should’ve thought before springing him on you like that.”

“You did nothing wrong.” He cringes internally as his voice comes out a lot shakier than he meant it to be. “I’m glad you found him.”

“But I-”

“Nope.” He interrupts, before glancing down at the plate. “Is that for me?”

“Oh, yeah!” The Peacekeeper brightens up considerably, tail wagging a bit. “The muffins turned out really well, so I thought I should bring you one. As a kind of peace offering, I guess.” He hands the plate over.

Techno takes a bite, and after a moment pronounces: “This offering pleases the Blood God.” The other breaks into a burst of giggles, and he grins in response.

He can learn to be okay with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments fuel me, leave one if you so choose.  
> Blood for the Blood God. ;P


	3. Well, How Did I Get Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade tries and fails to distract himself from thinking about the past.  
> Another of the New Gods is discovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: slight unreality/hallucination, hypnotism, blood, death mention.  
> See the notes at the end for a brief Q&A that may or may not have any actual A.

It's been four days since the Hunter left to find the Survivor. Technoblade has been purposely ignoring anything that could remind him of before. Instead, he’s been tending to his garden.

He has a little plot behind the house, only a few meters wide. There are some melon and pumpkin vines, a row of carrots, a little patch of blackberries that he has to regularly battle back into its place, and some potatoes- the same variety that won him the additional title of Harvest God. He tries to spend a couple of hours working on it daily, but lately he may have been giving it a little too much attention. Everything seems to be growing at a much faster rate than it should be, and more aggressively. He would leave it alone, but he was pretty sure the berry bush would try to strangle the pumpkins out as soon as he turned his back.

He’s not thinking about the Final Day. He’s not thinking about what he did. He’s thinking about his plants.

The potatoes are almost ready to be harvested. They’re supposed to grow a lot faster than most varieties, but he’s found that he needs to pull them about once a month, more than he should. The pumpkins are almost ripe despite it being early summer, and the blackberry thorns are like daggers, sharp enough to pierce his skin. One of them slashes into his palm. Blood drips into the soil and vanishes almost instantly, already absorbed by the plant’s roots. He stares as the bright crimson trickles across his hand, watering the earth. Maybe it is his influence?

He’s not thinking about the people he cut down like weeds. He’s not thinking about the scorched, barren battlefield. He’s not, he’s not, he’s-

“Hey Techno, can you come with us to the market?”

He blinks. The thorns are just thorns. The cut is no longer bleeding- it barely was to begin with. There are three children standing in his melon vines- no, just two. Tubbo is behind them on the walkway because he’s smart. “And why would I do that? I’m busy.”

“Busy staring at dirt?” The Trickster snorts. “Dream said I needed a chaperone if I wanted to go anywhere outside of school while he was gone.”

He wipes his hand off, and just like that the injury is gone. Perks of godhood. “Did you ask Bad?”

Tubbo peeks out from behind the other two. “He said no, so we’re asking you because you seem more likely to say yes.” Tommy glares at him and makes a shushing noise.

“Well you see, that’s where you’d be wrong. I would rather not spend hours babysitting a bunch of toddlers.” Technoblade stands up, brushing soil off his pants as the teens’ faces fall. “Furthermore, I’m not going to endorse whatever shenanigans you’re planning on getting into, and it’s absurd of you to assume I would.” The hoe goes in a chest by the back door, as does his sunhat and trowel before he heads inside. “Quite frankly, I find it a little insulting that you came to me second.” He washes his hands in the kitchen sink before grabbing his cloak hanging by the front door. “Honestly, what sort of fool do you think I am? Now come on.”

The three of them had actually followed him through the entire process, and they now wear thoroughly confused expressions. “Where are we going?” Tommy asks.

“To the market. You wanted to go, didn’t you?” He opens the door and gestures toward it, the teens cheering as they scramble past. A smirk worms its way onto his face.

Hopefully this will be a better distraction.

  
  


This was a mistake.

Techno is not a crowd person, and there is certainly a crowd here. Merchants of all species are yelling out what they have for sale, a hundred different smells, sounds, and colors assault his senses. He’d meant to keep an eye on the children but they lost him in the crowd five minutes ago, the little demons. Tracking people is not in his area of expertise, and to top it all off he left his spectacles at home.

Definitely not one of his top ten best moments.

But hey, he can fix this, right? All he needs to do is find the kids, complain at them a bit for wandering off, continue like nothing happened, and make sure that the Hunter never ever finds out that he lost track of them in the first place. Simple.

“Think, Blade.” He murmurs to himself, earning a couple of strange looks from the shoppers who pass by. “What would distract children?” Despite the chaotic streams of chatter around him, Techno picks out the faint sound of music and clapping. He squints in that direction and can just barely make out a yellow figure sitting at a corner, surrounded by a small audience. It’s as good a place to start as any.

He starts weaving his way through the crowd, mumbling apologies when he knocks into others. One hand clutches the hilt of his sword- whether to defend himself or simply take comfort in the fact that it’s there, he isn’t sure. As he gets closer to the music, he stops following it and starts being drawn towards it, compelled to listen and watch. He finds the teens quickly- they're all together, all safe, clapping along in the middle of the audience- and gets a better look at the performer.

He doesn't look like much, to be sure: curly brown hair, yellow sweater, holding a guitar as he sings and sways to his music. It's the voice that makes Techno worry. It sounds familiar, too familiar, and even if its lovely something in his gut is telling him to _get out, run, escape while you can_. Not things he usually thinks about. Glancing around at the crowd only brings him more concern- many of them are glassy-eyed and moving robotically, as if they're being controlled. Should he do something? Can he do anything?

Before he can overthink things further, the song is over. The teens finally notice him. "Hey Technoblade!" Tommy exclaims. "Isn't this guy brilliant?"

"You were supposed to stay close." He replies, voice colder than he intends it to be. "Now come on, we're leaving."

"Aw, can't we stay for one more song?" The Trickster pleads.

"I think he's packing up," Tubbo says, gesturing to the man. Sure enough, he's put away his guitar and is now counting the iron and gold nuggets from a bucket that had been sitting on the pavement. The crowd seems to be waking up from… whatever that was, blinking and looking about as if they're not quite sure what they were doing.

"Well I'm going to go talk to him." Tommy slips out of Techno's reach before he can react.

"Dammit- come on." He gestures for the other two to follow him as he works his way through the thinning crowd.

"- believe my talent is a gift from the Siren himself." The man grinned as Tommy broke into peals of laughter. "A bit silly, I know."

"Didn't all the gods vanish ages ago?" The boy asks. The Trickster bites back a laugh as they approach. 

“That’s what most people believe, sure.” He leans in with a conspiratorial glance. “But if you ask me, I think some of them simply hid away, waiting for the right time to reappear to us.” The stranger is close to the truth, and that’s what worries Techno. Mortals had all sorts of crazy ideas without any evidence, but there were too many little things about this person that were building up into quite the concerning picture. He reaches Tommy and tries to be subtle about pulling him back. The musician merely blinks and smiles up at him. “Hello there! Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yeah, great, thanks.” He mutters. “Sorry about the kid, we’ll be moving on.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all!” He slings the guitar case across his back. He looks human enough, but his eyes have a strange burning light to them- no, not burning. Boiling. “My father used to tell me stories about the gods when I was younger, and I enjoy sharing them.”

“Well isn’t that lovely. Come on Tommy, we’re leaving.” Techno turns back toward the market, but the child doesn’t follow. None of them do. Instead, they trail after the musician as he leaves, still chattering on about the gods. "Drista, don't make me call your brother." She doesn't even seem to hear him- and that threat always works.

Something is terribly wrong.

Technoblade tightens his grip on his hilt and begins walking after the group. He can't draw it here- there's still too many witnesses. He keeps his eyes trained on the Trickster's bright green hoodie and follows them through the streets as they slowly get smaller and emptier. The musician is still talking but he doesn't pay attention to the words- he fears that if he does he'll fall under whatever spell has them trapped.

Finally the group stops at a small shop- a bakery, it looks like. The musician turns to unlock the door, and that's when Techno strikes. "Release them." He growls out, the diamond blade mere millimeters from the stranger's neck. "Now."

Instead of looking terrified like he's supposed to, the man chuckles. That boiling light in his eyes only seems to grow stronger as he stares back at the porcine god. "You know, I think you're the only person I've met who hasn't given in to my songs. You must be blessed as well."

"I'm about to bless the head off your body if you don't stop."

The musician raises his hands, and out of the corner of his eye the pig hybrid can see the children blink dizzily, as if coming out of a trance. "There. Happy?"

Techno presses his sword under the man's chin until he can see a few drops of blood decorating the blade. The grin finally slips off his face, the manic bubbling light fading. “Don’t talk to my family ever again. _Do I make myself clear, Siren?_ ” He can feel the familiar, ancient surge and call for _blood, warm crimson spilled from all who stand in your way, tribute to the Blood God,_ filling every inch of his being, but he lowers his weapon as the man frantically nods yes. “Good.”

Tubbo tugs on his cloak, rubbing his eyes. “What just happened?”

“Nothing. We’re going back home and I’m calling your parents to come get you.” He leads the three of them away from the bakery, and he doesn’t look back.

* * *

_The Siren was one of the oldest gods, having risen from the ocean when mortals were first banding together and forming alliances, when the Nether was still seen as a desolate dead wasteland and the End was an unconquered rumor. His title represents the gifts he gave to them long ago: music discs hidden across the world, the designs for jukeboxes and note blocks so that they could create their own melodies. Those gifts and the ballads that he inspired are what he was most remembered for- the Siren, the benevolent god of music._

_But music was not his only domain, and all but those who knew him often forgot. The Siren used his power to lure and manipulate others, would twist their perceptions and feed off their madness. He sang in the middle of storms, causing many sailors to be lured to their deaths._

_The Siren was one of the most dangerous gods, once upon a time._

_Technoblade knew this all too well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I usually never write or update stuff this fast, so if there ends up being a delay in later chapters plz don't be mad at me. Comments fuel me, so leave one if you so choose!
> 
> Q&A STARTS BELOW  
> Q: So wait, does this take place in Minecraft or a fantasy world?  
> A: Yes~💖
> 
> Q: Is Wilbur going to be one of the villains?  
> A: Great Question! You'll just have to wait and see.
> 
> Q: Will Philza ever actually show up? You've been teasing it for 3 chapters now.  
> A: He will, soon! But not just yet.
> 
> Q: Any other stuff you'd like to tell us before we go?  
> A: I have done so much unnecessary research on pigs to make Techno's pig hybrid stuff more realistic. Did you know that domestic pigs have their tusks cut off and tails purposely curled or cut short when they're young? This is so the piglets don't hurt the mom or each other because they're opportunistic feeders and will munch on just about anything- even each other. This stuff doesn't pertain to the plot whatsoever.


	4. Is This More Than You Bargained For Yet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philza, the Survivor, the first of the gods, finally comes home and learns what's been happening while he's been gone.  
> Absent father of the millennium, this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this one!  
> Very Philza-centric chapter, if you don't like the Dad then you came to the wrong place.

“So when can I tell them?” The Trickster asks him. It is five-thirty in the morning when she asks this, and Technoblade has not gone to bed in three days- possibly more, he’s not good at keeping track. True, he doesn’t especially need to sleep (perks of godhood), but he’s still so out of it that it takes a couple of minutes for the question to process.

“... Tell who what?”

“Tell Tommy and Tubbo that they’re gods.” She’s floating next to the kitchen table, hands propped under her chin. "I wanna have someone I can really play with, not just video games."

"You have your brother?" Techno suggests. He's been scrubbing the same potato for ten minutes. He sets it down and grabs the next one as his cousin groans.

"He's so boring! All he ever wants to play is Manhunt, and of course, I'm gonna lose every time because that's part of his domain." She sits up, legs still a good three feet above the ground. "Besides, he's still not back from finding Dad."

Techno snorts at that. "He'll be home in a couple of days. Probably just chilling with Phil, wherever they are." For a long moment, there's only the sound of the faucet and the brush.

"You didn't answer my question though." The Trickster says, poking his arm. "When can I tell them?"

"Ask Phil when he gets home." She sighs, laying back in the air.

"You guys always do this! It’s always ‘Not now’ or ‘Let’s talk about something else’ or ‘I’ll tell you when you’re older’. Why can’t I just get an answer!”

“What do you want me to say, heh? I got nothing. I mean, for all we know telling ‘em might make their brains melt, and I dunno about you,” Techno poked her mask, “But I don’t want to clean up melted brains. It’s very messy, just generally not a good time.”

The Trickster frowns. “You say that like you have experience.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” He doesn’t, but being vague is funny. “Listen, I’m sure when everyone’s here we can figure this out, okay? Now stop asking, leave me and my harvest be.”

She groans again, finally landing on her feet and leaving the room. It’s finally quiet. He’s alone.

Techno can see evidence of the sunrise from the window over the kitchen sink. He’s now positive that he won’t be getting any sleep, but it’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things. He’s been meaning to break the habit anyway. From the window, he can see a massive swath of trees and parts of the path winding through them. Their home has been here for years with relatively few intrusions courtesy of the Peacekeeper, and the wilderness around them certainly reflects that. 

It used to be rare that someone would be walking along that path, but lately, he’s seen more and more people going back and forth from the town a few miles away. It’s started to feel crowded in the house as well, with the new gods visiting so frequently. Techno isn't fond of new people on the best of days, but these ones are worse because they aren't new. They're living, breathing reminders of- nope, not now.

The Trickster comes thundering back down the stairs, startling him out of his thoughts. "Dream's back!" She yells as she dashes for the front door. Technoblade dries his hands and follows after, eager to watch the spectacle.

She's already down the front steps when he gets there, whooping and hollering. The siblings have a pattern they follow whenever the Hunter returns- she’ll attempt to tackle him to the ground, and he’ll attempt to stop her. Either way, it usually ends with both of them lying in the dirt and laughing their asses off. Fun stuff, great entertainment.

The Trickster hops over the fence that surrounds the front yard, whooping as she sprints toward her brother before taking a flying leap. The Hunter catches her and attempts to shove her off, but loses his balance. “Victory!” She yells, throwing her arms up in the air as he crashes into the dirt.

It’s then that Techno notices the winged figure beside them, hiding a grin. He looks up toward the house and waves.

The Survivor has come home.

* * *

_Before the End Portal was found again, before the Nether had been fully explored, before the great redstone engineers began their experiments anew, all that mortals knew was the struggle of survival. Many struggled alone, while those who did manage to form groups did so out of fear. The nights were long, the days full of paranoia._

_This is the world that the Survivor made himself known as the first of the gods to wander among mortals._

_In a world where fear and power ruled, he showed them kindness. For those who fought alone, he lit paths to others so they could work together. For those able to fight he provided the means to craft stronger weaponry, and to those who could not he whispered plans of walls and defensive builds. He gave them hope in a place where monsters lurked around every corner, curiosity to go beyond the limits of the Overworld, a sense of kinship where there had been mistrust._

_The Survivor was his title, the oldest of the gods, but he gave mortals much more than mere survival._

_He gave them the tools they needed to thrive._

* * *

“I missed you all.” The Survivor says. They’re all awake and gathered at the kitchen table- the Peacekeeper is still in his duck pajamas, which makes the shifting shadows look much less intimidating. “I hope nothing too important happened?”

“Of course not,” Techno replies dryly. His hair is loose, and he’s been braiding the same section over and over again. “It’s only been, what, a decade? Nothing important.”

Philza chuckles at that. “Okay, so I stayed out a little longer than I meant to. But it wasn’t a disaster right? The house is still here, you’re all still here, no atrocities against mortals were committed.” The silence that suddenly blankets the room is heavy and thick, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “... No atrocities, right?”

“Of course not!” The Hunter says a little too cheerfully. “Come on, trust us a little. Anyway, there’s something really weird that’s been going on here recently.”

“Weird how?”

“I made friends who’re like us.” The Trickster blurts out.

“I found my Companion again.” Bad adds.

Techno looks up from the pink strands laced between his fingers. “The Siren tried to lure the kid and her friends.”

“What?!” A pair of white masks glare in his direction, one angry and one betrayed.

“It was fine, I didn’t let it happen. She’s still here, right?”

The Hunter stands, hands still firmly on the table. “Why did he get the chance in the first place?”

“The brat escaped my sight for two minutes, she got herself into that mess.”

“Hey, don’t call me a brat!”

Techno shrugs. “Am I wrong?”

“Don’t call her a brat, you should’ve kept a better eye on her.” He turns to his sister and adds, “If you were less of a brat people wouldn’t call you one.”

“Oh come on, you’re taking his side on this?”

“I’m not taking sides, I’m just-”

“Oh sure you’re not-”

The porcine god can feel the anger building up between them, and as is his nature, he encourages it. “Fight, fight, fight-”

“If you just did what you were told-”

“I can’t believe you expect-”

“ **_ENOUGH!_ **” The word rings out with a wave of energy, a command so forceful that they all freeze in place. The Peacekeeper’s eyes are lit up like flames, arms crossed in disapproval. “You’re all being immature. Let Phil speak.” The three younger gods settle back into their places with almost eerie synchronicity. It’s rare that he uses that tone.

“... Thank you.” The Survivor is quiet, oddly so. “Who all have you found?”

“Drista’s friends are the Diligent and the Poisoned Youth, Skeppy’s the Companion, and… who’s the Siren?” Bad looks to Techno, who responds with a snort.

“I didn’t bother learning his name, I was trying to protect the others.”

“Right, so that’s… four then?”

“Five.” The Hunter says. “I ran into the Inferno while I was tracking you down.”

Philza nods solemnly. “I was afraid this would happen. We messed it up.”

“Messed what up?”

“The cycle, we ruined it by staying alive.” He puts his head in his hands. “And with the temple long gone… no, we need to find them. I refuse to let this happen again, I can’t- I can’t lose you all again.”

Techno frowns. “You say that like you know what’s going on.” The Survivor laughs, though it doesn’t sound anything close to cheerful.

“Oh, I should. I’ve lived through it enough times to know.”

“What are you talking about, Dad?” The Trickster sounds more like a child than she has for millennia. Philza takes off his hat, staring at it for a long moment.

“I think I need to tell you all a story.”

* * *

_The Survivor is the first of the gods._

_The first to appear to mortals, the first to bring others together, the first face every other deity saw when they emerged for the first time. Each of them could remember the same kind, smiling face, the same winged figure welcoming them into the world that they could shape and mold as they please. He was like a father to all of them, really. He helped them grow into their roles and learn to use their powers._

_He’d done it so many times before._

_The Final Day was supposed to be the end, and Philza knew it all too well. He’d seen and been unable to stop at least a half-dozen before. Left alone in a ruined world, he would sigh and pick up the pieces, wait for mortals to begin appearing once again. He would wait in the temple for each of the gods to be reborn, a blank slate that he could hopefully guide away from their role in the cruel cycle. Most of the time, it didn’t work and he would be alone again. That was his role: the Survivor, the last standing, the first new hope._

_Something had been different this time._

_The war- the massacre, really- was stopped short. He watched in horror as the temple was destroyed, in sorrow as the dust settled, and in confusion as a few gods picked their way through the rubble towards him._

_The Blood God, brought out of his rage, limped as he walked. The Peacekeeper clutched a golden trinket in his hands, wiping away tears. The Hunter carefully clambered down from his hiding spot, his sister clinging to him the entire way. They all gathered around him, looking to him for answers he could not possibly share._

_The vast majority of mortals had not been destroyed, their towns and towers still standing strong. And for the first time, at the end of a Final Day, the Survivor was not alone. True, he had lost a great deal- he always lost a great deal- but for once he had not lost everything. He had no clue what would happen next, but as he embraced the others, he found he didn’t much mind._

_He had something, and it was enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to come out on the 16th, but after watching what went down, I rewrote nearly the entire thing. These people have such incredible storytelling skills, don't they?  
> If you liked it, leave a comment! If you didn't like it, leave a comment! Either way, it fuels me to write more!


	5. Why Did You Do This To Us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, did someone ask for many emotions in a very short span of time? No? Well, I'm gonna give it to you so uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh  
> Technopain contrasted by soft Dadza moments.  
> Also, another of the gods makes himself known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for panic attack? idk man, I try adding all the necessary tags as I go.  
> We love Dadza in this household.  
> Also, it's getting increasingly hard to think of song lyrics that are also questions so if you have any suggestions leave them in the comments :D

The five gods sit in stunned silence for what seems like an eternity. Techno’s mind is in turmoil as he tries to process the implications of the Survivor’s words. Not only was he responsible for the mindless slaughter of his own kind, but he’d apparently done it before and succeeded in razing everything in his path. He was used to battle, knew the taste of blood and how it stained his skin, so why did the thought of more destruction make him feel sick?

“... I should have told you all long ago.” The Survivor says at last. “I just thought… if I ignored it, maybe it wouldn’t come again.”

The Trickster is the next one to attempt to break the tension. “Not gonna lie Dad,” she forces a chuckle, “that’s kinda fucked.”

“Language.” The strained atmosphere seems to ease just a tad so of course, he has to go and ruin it.

“... How many times was it my fault?” Techno’s voice is purposely flat, the calm contrasting the tremor in his hands.

“Techno, that’s the least of our worries.”

“How many, Phil?” His heart is pounding in his ears, composure slipping away with each dreadful beat. “How many times have I killed them?”

The Survivor reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, but he flinches away. “It doesn’t matter, just calm down.”

“It does, actually.” He snaps, leaning back. “I’d like to know just how many times I left the world in ruins. Should be easy to remember, considering you watched them all and did jack shit about it.”

“You’re getting too worked up, Techno, please-” The tone is meant to be comforting, but it just makes him more agitated. The pounding grows louder, threatening to overwhelm him. He feels like he’s about to throw up. He feels like he’s about to explode.

“It’s a simple question!” The chair is pushed away as he stands, hands slamming onto the table. “ _How. Many. Times?!_ ” Someone touches his arm, and without thinking he lashes out, knocking them back into the wall with a tremendous crash. It takes a moment to actually register what he’s done, register the shattered mask on the floor and the fear in the others’ eyes.

Technoblade bolts.

* * *

  
  


When he finally regains some semblance of awareness, he finds himself curled up at the roots of a massive gnarled tree- an oak, he thinks dimly. He’s trembling, breaths shallow and shaky, eyes and throat burning. He feels like he’s being torn apart. He feels like he’s been emptied out.

It’s Techno himself that’s the problem, he realizes. He’s the embodiment of war and destruction, it only makes sense that he would ruin anything good. He hurts and he kills and he tears things apart, it’s what he was made for. _Monster,_ his mind tells him, and he doesn’t disagree. 

His chest hurts. He needs air but he can’t breathe, can’t stand, stuck sitting with his knees to his chest and his hands tangled in his hair like he’s about to tear it out.

Someone is kneeling in front of him. He can’t understand a word they’re saying, but the voice is soft, familiar, kinder than he deserves. Slowly, unbearably slowly, the pounding panic begins to ebb away. “Good, keep breathing.” They keep up a gentle, rambling monologue as Techno hiccups his way into something a little closer to calm.

“... ‘m sorry.”

“I know, I know.” He finally recognizes the voice. Phliza’s with him. “Techno, can I touch you?” He hesitates, then nods once, jerkily.

The winged man wraps his arms around the pig hybrid, still murmuring soft nonsense. The embrace is solid, secure, and without thinking he returns the gesture, latching onto the fabric of the Survivor’s robe. They stay there until he can breathe again, until the violent shaking has been reduced to a slight tremor.

“... How many times?”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“But-”

“No, listen to me.” He squeezes tight before pulling back just enough to meet Techno’s gaze. “What you might have done does not matter, understand? You’re my son. I have never, and will never give up on you.” The way the Survivor says it, the warmth and sorrow and faith threaded through his words… he actually believes it. The dam finally bursts, and he curls closer, burying his face in his father’s shoulder.

* * *

_Techno remembers being young, once._

_He remembers squinting against the bright morning sun as he emerged, clutching a sword that was far too large for him. The white columns and shimmering black walls loom far above him, and standing silhouetted at the door is a tall stranger with massive dark grey wings. “Hello there, little one.” He says, smiling. "It's nice to see you here."_

_The man takes a step forward and he squeals out a warning, attempting to raise his weapon. Instead, he stumbles back, landing with a thump. The other chuckles softly, kneeling down and holding out a hand to the piglet. “It’s okay, I'm not gonna hurt you."_

_He shook his head emphatically, clutching the blade close to his chest. "Mine."_

_The stranger seems confused, pulls away for a split second. "What- oh! No, I'm not asking for your weapon." Once again, an outstretched hand. "All I want is for you to take my hand."_

_He stared at the other for a long moment before reaching out, and was rewarded with a gentle grin. "There we go." The winged man helped him to his feet and began leading him towards the door. "Trust me, little warrior, you're going to love it out there."_

_"I have so much to share with you."_

* * *

"... Sorry for ruining your robe." Techno rumbles when he finally releases the other from his grip. The Survivor blinks as he leans back, then laughs.

"That is the least of my concerns right now, piglet." He reaches up and cups Techno's face with both hands, pressing a swift peck to his forehead. A gentle warmth blooms and spreads through him as Philza stands, hand outstretched to help him up. "Love you, okay?"

"Mhm." He takes the offered hand and keeps it as they begin trekking back toward the house. “How long are you staying this time?”

He hums thoughtfully. “You know, I think I might stay for a while. I really did miss you all, even if you’re a bunch of argumentative little shits.”

That manages to elicit a chuckle from him, though it soon fades. "... Hunter's gonna kill me."

“He might, yeah.”

“Heh?” He glares down at the Survivor, who grins. “What happened to being on my side?”

“I am, I was agreeing with you!”

“Can’t believe this treachery.” He lets go of the other’s hand and begins marching back at a faster pace. “Betrayal from my own father, the audacity to insinuate that I can be defeated!”

“Well that’s not fair, you said it first!” The winged god laughs, struggling to catch up on foot. The trees are too close for him to properly spread the lavender plumage, and the porcine god knows it. “Techno, wait-”

“Nope, I’m gone.” He walks ahead for a couple more minutes before stopping, grinning as he waits for the other to catch up.

“You are so rude!” The Survivor baps his shoulder.

“I don’t know what you mean, I waited for you.” 

He shakes his head with an exasperated sigh. “So rude.”

A shrill cry rings out, the noise reverberating through the trees around them. It’s coming from the house.

* * *

“NONONONO, PLEASE I’M SORRY!” An orange blur yelps, scrambling up onto the roof with the Hunter close behind.

“C’mere fucker!” He shouts gleefully in response.

“Language!” The Peacekeeper calls up from the back garden, the Trickster cheering her brother on next to him- maskless. This is the scene that Techno and Philza rush into then screech to a halt to stare at.

“... What.”

“Techno!” The teen grins up at him, seeming to have forgotten the events from earlier that morning. “We found a spy!”

“Dream noticed him hiding in the hedge.” The other offers as an explanation.

“And he hasn’t disposed of him already… why?”

The blur jumps off the roof and lands like a panicked cat before taking off again, only for Techno to yank him back by the collar of his jacket. “I CAN EXPLAIN-” He shrieks, using his arms to shield his face, “I CAN EXPLAIN PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!”

The Hunter drops down and draws back his bow. “Better be a pretty good explanation.”

Now that he’s holding the spy, he can see that all the orange is actually fur- a fox hybrid, one who’s babbling nonsense as he tries to come up with some sort of excuse. “You see I had heard- that is, my friend told me that- I should probably introduce myself, shouldn’t I? No, who am I kidding- I mean-”

“Ten words or less.” Techno huffs, which gets the hostage to shut up for a moment. He silently counts and recounts on his fingers for a moment before a weak, wobbly grin appears on his face.

“I- know- you’re- all- gods-” He says slowly, tail curling around his torso as he talks, “I- think- I’m- one- too.”

Silence, save for the faint breeze.

The Survivor sighs. “I believe it. Drop him.” Technoblade obliges, and the fox hybrid yelps again as he hits the ground. “You’re going to come inside and explain everything.”

“Of course, of course!” He hops up, brushing dirt off of his outfit. “Gosh, I thought Wilbur had gone off the deep end when he told me, but to be right-!”

“Wilbur?”

He waves the question away. “Friend of mine, plays music in town, doesn’t matter. What matters is all of you- really, an incredible discovery I’ve made here.” He sticks out a hand toward Philza with a smile that reveals rows of too-sharp teeth. His eyes glint a wild, dark green, ears twitching to catch the slightest sound.

“The name’s Fundy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fundy's here!  
> If you have any complaints, compliments, criticisms, caterwauling, or anything at all to say really, please leave a comment!! They fuel me >:3


	6. Will This One Be Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fundy tells his side of the story.  
> More is revealed but nothing is explained, isn't that fun?

The fox hybrid has a strange nervous energy about him as soon as he's ushered inside. "So, this is where you all have been hiding out? Looks nice, looks nice. Cozy."

"Why don't you come take a seat?" The Peacekeeper asks, pulling out his own chair for the other.

"Oh, that's fine, I prefer standing-"

The shadowy god tilts his head, an unnervingly wide smile stretching across his face. "That wasn't a suggestion. Please, sit." Fundy's ears flatten back against his head as he sits down.

"Hey, since he knows and his brain hasn't melted, can I tell Tommy and Tubbo?" The Trickster asks eagerly, plopping down across from the increasingly pale-looking fox and resting her chin in her hands.

"It hasn't  _ what _ ?"

"Might be a delayed reaction sort of thing. We should wait a couple days to make sure.” Techno replied, a small smirk working its way onto his face.

“We better not be keeping him for that long.” The Hunter takes his place, and though the mask’s expression stays the same, it looks more menacing than usual. “He seems like he’d be fun to track down.”

“Kids, please stop threatening our guest.” The Survivor sighs, standing between the siblings, wings folded against his back. “Go on then.”

Fundy takes a shuddering breath, running a clawed hand through the fur on his head. “Alright, where to begin… I suppose the beginning would be best, right?”

* * *

_ Fundy was only a kit when he met Niki, Eret, and Wilbur, but he clicked with them almost immediately. They protected each other, and over the years the friends became their own little family. Four kids with strange, powerful gifts… or curses, depending on how you looked at it. _

_ Niki was always a little warm, perfect for hugging. When she was upset the heat turned feverish, radiating off in waves until she would accidentally burn whatever- or whoever- she touched. Eret’s eyes were a pure, brilliant white, but that and her voice were the only really consistent things about him. His physical form would shift, subtly, and it wouldn’t be until weeks later that you would realize the face you saw was entirely different. Wilbur had a knack for singing and speaking, able to draw a crowd, bring people together. He could lead people into songs, into arguments, into fights, into riots.  _

_ And Fundy? Fundy had a knack for tracking things down. He could go completely unseen, somehow finding information and interactions that nobody else should see or witness. Foxes might be known for being thieves, but his gifts allowed him to be an excellent spy. _

_ Which is how he saw what had happened to Wilbur outside of the bakery. _

_ He saw the people his friend was leading home from the second-story window, in the middle of doing laundry. Niki was off at the market that day, Eret was gone who-knows-where, so Fundy was the only one to see the massive pig hybrid that had threatened him, slashed the other’s throat. _

* * *

“You did what?”

“Oh my goodness Techno, you didn’t have to hurt him!”

“He wouldn’t let the toddlers go. If anything-”

“Hey!”

“ _ If anything _ , he should be grateful I left his friend with his vocal cords intact.”

The fox hybrid coughs awkwardly. “If I could ah, finish my story?” He asks, voice taking on a slight tremor.

Technoblade shoots him a bored glare. “Get to the important part and be done with it.”

“Right, right.”

* * *

_ He watched and noted the four of them- a blonde boy, a brunette bee hybrid, a pig hybrid in a blood-red cloak, a girl in a smiling mask and a bright green hoodie. As soon as they walked out of sight he ran downstairs and pulled Wilbur inside. The wound looked worse than it actually was, thank goodness, but his friend was behaving strangely. _

_ He started babbling about the gods- he did that sometimes, and Fundy would usually ignore him, but this time it seemed to have a purpose. He spoke of return, of new beginnings, of endings that had not been. He gripped the fox’s shoulders at one point and demanded that he track down and find out just what he’d encountered, and Fundy found that he could not say no. _

_ By the time Niki had come home with a slightly singed basket, Wilbur was bandaged up, asleep against the counter. When Eret returned that night with freckles they hadn’t left with, Wilbur was entirely back to his usual self.  _

_ But Fundy was not. _

_ The promise he had made echoed in his head almost constantly in the days that followed, a constant reminder for him to be alert and aware, a melody that refused to leave his head. He found himself wandering the town, searching for the figures he’d committed to memory. _

_ On the fourth day, Fundy woke before dawn, got dressed, and slipped out the door without a word. By now he was convinced that the unlucky strangers had just been passing through, but his head would not let him rest. The persistence paid off though, because just as he turned onto the main street, he saw the same smiling mask being worn by someone chatting with a winged man. He followed them past the edge of town, deep into the forest, making himself unseen. _

_ When the promise finally stopped echoing in his mind, Fundy knew he’d found what he was looking for. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d known. _

* * *

“At which point you found my hiding spot, and well- I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that part.” Fundy chuckled nervously, glancing around the room. “Did you need me to tell you anything else?”

The Hunter bent forward, resting his elbows on the table. “How did I not spot you following us? That should literally be impossible.” The fox hybrid shrugged helplessly.

“If I concentrate enough, people tend to not notice me. I can’t explain it better.”

“Alright. Thank you Fundy.” The Survivor said. “I think we’ve heard enough. Could one of you show him the way out?”

Techno tilted his head in confusion. “We’re just letting him go?”

“We can always track him down again-”

“Or!” He interrupted, digging a device out of his pocket. “Or or or, I could just give one of you my communicator frequency? I’d rather not be chased like some wild animal.”

The Trickster plucks the device from the fox’s hands, fiddling with it and her own for a moment before handing it back with a sharp smirk. “Got it. Hope you like your new ringtones.”

“How did you-” He shook his head and pocketed the device before standing. “Nevermind, I don’t think I want to know.”

Philza smiled slightly, though there was no real emotion behind it. “You’ll be hearing from us soon enough. Bad, if you would.” 

Techno waited until he heard the door close before asking “So, we planning on having any more huge revelations today? Because I think I’m gonna have to tap out.”

“It’s a lot to take in, I’ll admit.” The Survivor pulls a few sheets of paper and a pen from his pockets, sitting down at the head of the table. “Still, more knowledge is always useful. If we keep finding the others at this pace, planning should be a breeze.”

“Planning for what, exactly?” The Trickster asks.

“Preventing the next Final Day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there was a bit of a delay with this chapter. No, you don't get a reason why.  
> Comments fuel me, so leave one if you so choose! I'd also like to thank all the people who've kept up with the story so far, y'all have been so lovely :D


End file.
